While I’m excited to share wedding planning deets with you, I should probably let you know how we got here. From the very beginning of our relationship, A and I planned on getting married. We got along so well as friends, and there was a level of comfort between us that I’d never felt with anyone before. I remember saying to him, “had I known that you existed, that there was someone out there just like me, I never would have settled for anyone else.” Of course, I’m still a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, our paths to get to this point needed to be as twisted and messy as they were, and so on and so forth. So I wouldn’t change anything about how we came to be. But really, I wouldn’t have felt like such an oddball in this world if I had met him earlier. I guess that’s what growing up is all about though, right? Self -acceptance?
Anywho. We just clicked from the very beginning and there was no doubt in my mind that it was just a matter of time before we were married. So I was on the lookout for a proposal fairly early on. And I waited, and waited. Our friends would ask on occasion, “when are you guys just going to get married already?” At Christmas, A’s cousin asked us when we were getting married. By Valentine’s Day, even A’s mom was pushing for a ring, even sending him pictures of rings and trying to get me to talk wedding plans with her! On Mother’s Day, the family was making bets on when we would get engaged. A’s dad said he “[gave] it six months,” in his adorable Welsh accent. Well, future FIL wins by default, because even though everyone agreed it wouldn’t be long, he called it first, and it was about 4 months from then.
One day in August, A suggested that we “hang out in Oakland, grab some dinner, and reminisce.” I agreed, but reminded him that we had crew practice that night, so that particular night wouldn’t work. He shrugged it off, so my proposal alert went down, and I went back to believing we were just going to have a random date night. Nothing special. All the same, I went to my coworker in a slight panic, and told her that I was afraid I “may have just poo-poo’ed a potential proposal!” Now, A is pretty stubborn, so if he really wanted to propose, no amount of me resisting his plans would have stopped him. But I was nervous that I may have hurt his mojo if he was intending to propose and I screwed it up by annoyingly reminding him of our calendar obligations! His blase attitude didn’t match my level of concern, though, so I ended up shrugging it off as well. Even if I was still a little suspicious. Continue reading Parisian Proposal: Numéro Deux